Beka's Sermon

Beka often writes love letters to me. She thoughtfully slides them under my door, hides them in my purse and delivers them in envelopes like "real" mail. She senses when I need comfort and encouragement.

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Last Sunday during the sermon, she could see by my face that I was in some pain. One wave of pain brought tears to my eyes and purpose to her heart. One by one, she passed her notes of printed love and encouragement.

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Her "sermon" is the one that stayed with me all week, giving me affirmation to a spiritual conclusion I had come to earlier in the month. I had been gently grieving in my heart that Rebekah has never known me well. My first bout with thyroid cancer was in 2004/2005, when she was about 2 years old; she has grown up with a sick Mommy.

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Then, I quickly repented.

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Haven't I rejoiced in the ways the Lord has blessed me through cancer?

Haven't I cherished His presence so much that I haven't begrudged the trial?

Haven't I been allowed to grow in faith?

Haven't I felt the Scriptures come alive as I learn to understand the purpose of suffering?

Shouldn't I be thankful that she is being raised by the "new, improved me"?

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Hasn't Rebekah also been blessed in the same way?

Hasn't her character and her faith been tested and allowed to mature in ways other young children haven't been blessed to experience?

Her wisdom and her strength surpass her years.

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First, she tried to make me smile by drawing me kinda' upside down.

Giggling, she quietly explained she did this on purpose,

not wanting me to think that at 6,

she didn't know the eyes should be above the smile.

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Then, she turned spiritual, reminding me who to turn to.

"Jesus"

Next, she was factual.
She drew in my scar.
"Scar"
Remember, she's in kindergarten.
She spells funeticlee.
I'll translate.



She told me what to do.
"Be Happy."



She told me what not to do.
"Do Not Cry."



Then, she gave me a promise.


"Jesus will heal you, Mommy."


Psalm 8:2 "Out of the mouth of babes...you have ordained praise..."